Sugar and Chloroform
by kc creation
Summary: Most days with Hiroki were as sweet as sugar, but sometimes they just left his head spinning. Drabbles, Egoist


**Sugar and Chloroform**

_Romantic_

It was common knowledge around the hospital that Kusama-san had a lover who he cherished more than anything else. The nurse's aides would squeal and gossip in clipped whispers about whichever romantic thing they'd heard him murmur over the phone during his lunch break or the heartwarming story he'd told the secretary over coffee as he recharged after pulling an all-nighter. The doctors and surgeons would chuckle good-naturedly as he clocked in each morning, all smiles with the clearest of complexions regardless of the tell-tale bags beneath his eyes, and everyone knew just what he'd been up to with that lover of his the night before.

"Kusama-san," a coworker would ask from time to time, "what is your girlfriend like again?"

And he would reply in the softest of tones, eyes tender with an acute fondness, "...the most amazing person; someone adorable and thoughtful who I'm positive I could never live without."

And the younger women would swoon, as the elders smiled, and the men wondered just how good the sex really was.

_Rumors_

It was common knowledge around campus that Kamijou the Devil had an unfortunate captive—ahem, lover. Miyagi-sensei had been known to joke about it from time to time, when a student or two (or five, or fifteen) would complain about a chalk-shaped bruise on their brow or a splitting headache due to flying novels, and the older man did nothing to quell the rumors—on the contrary, really, he only seemed to fuel them. The student body had to wonder just how strong this woman must have been to put up with someone as absolutely terrifying as the Devil himself, but, alas, no one really had the nerve to ask.

"I heard that she's a hit man—er, hit_ woman_."

"No, that's stupid! I heard she sleeps with a Taser under her pillow!"

"No, no, Miyagi-sensei said that she's big! Do you think she's some type of fat foreigner?"

"—she's a bodybuilder, stupid!"

The assumptions did little else besides raise a plethora of even more confusing questions, such as:

Who was the tall man who sometimes brought Kamijou the Devil lunch and how did he possible have the courage to call him something as informal as _Hiro-san?_

Hiroki found the rumor-mill to be absolutely ridiculous, and only after a particularly nasty story spread that Miyagi-sensei had a thing for Lolitas did the professor stop giving those damn kids ammunition. And it served him right, Hiroki decided.

_Vacation_

"So tomorrow's the beginning of your big vacation! Six days away from this place; have any special plans?"

Nowaki smiled at his boss's words, smoothing out the unruly curls of his patient's hair as the older doctor took the little boy's blood pressure.

"Well, my partner and I are going to meet his parents, "he answered softly, careful not to rest his palms too heavily on the child's head as his sempai clicked his tongue, scribbling notes onto the clipboard in his hands.

"Sounds terrifying," The doctor drew out, detached, "You've never met them?"

Nowaki chuckled lightly, letting the boy nibble on his wrist as his sempai finished up.

"Well, Hiro-san has always been a little worried about what they're going to think of me. He doesn't like to talk about it, but I can tell he's afraid that they'll say something to hurt my feelings. He's just so cute sometimes—"

His sempai laughed heartily as the child gurgled and giggled and Nowaki found himself laughing along, even if, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was so funny.

_Worry_

Hiroki wondered if he should file a request to move offices.

Probably, he decided, if only to thwart Akihiko for at least a week or two and give himself some peace and quiet to finally catch up on his work at _work,_ as opposed to at home, when he should have been delving into a good novel or enjoying the company of his charming but often busy lover.

But, no, Akihiko just _had_ to come barging in like the big shot writer he was and monopolize his time with stories of his young _"lodger"_ and the many reasons why the boy hadn't spoken to him in a week.

"So you're introducing your lover to your parents?" the novelist asked blithely, leaning far back in Hiroki's desk chair and propping his feet on a pile of books. Hiroki sighed in aggravation, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I am," he growled, tempted to kick the legs of the chair and send his childhood friend tumbling to the ground, but refrained. He'd rather not have the blood of an idiot writer on his hands, after all. "Have you introduced your_ lodger_ to your folks?"

He hoped the subject change would distract the absent-minded man, but he had no such luck, as Akihiko simply sighed, fumbled about his pockets for a cigarette and mumbled an edgy, "No, but they've become quite _acquainted _nonetheless."

And he paused, giving Hiroki only a taste of the break he so yearned for, before drawing out languidly, "You shouldn't be so nervous," a momentary pause to light his cigarette and take a quick but savored drag, "I mean, with the way you speak of him, it's as if he hung the moon, and if your mom likes me, she'll have to love someone who can rearrange the solar system, right?"

And Hiroki blushed, because Akihiko had a way of wording things that made his skin tingle and his inner bookworm swoon, and when he really thought of it, he didn't have a thing to worry about.

…Because Nowaki was so much more charming and lovable than the useless novelist even on his worst days.

_Reassure_

"Don't worry about me, Hiro-san, really," Nowaki breathed, pulse beating a steady rhythm against Hiroki's shoulder blades as the taller man cocooned him in his strong arms. "If your parents are even marginally as wonderful as you are, I'll be in heaven."

Hiroki scoffed, cheeks scarlet as his lover placed small kisses on the back of his neck. There was really no one in the entire world that made him as happy as Nowaki always seemed to.

_Family_

"I didn't know you swam a 10K when you were only twelve, Hiro-san," Nowaki spoke excitedly, eyes bright as Hiroki felt his face burn.

The taller man had a spot of bubbles on his chin, but the assistant professor knew he couldn't reach it without standing on the tips of his toes, so he ignored it. Besides, Nowaki looked cute all decked out in an apron with bubbles on his face, even if Hiroki would never dream of letting him know.

Damp towel in hand, he snatched the offered bowl from his lover's grasp, drying it swiftly and probably a lot rougher than he should have as Nowaki began washing the wine glasses. He could hear his parents' soft whispers from the dining room, even though they'd taken the precaution of closing the door, and he swore silently that if his mother didn't stop telling Nowaki every little embarrassing story from his childhood that she could think of, he was going to have to have a word with her about privacy.

"Your mom told me about the secret place you'd sneak off to when things got too hard," Nowaki drew out gently, all-too aware of how stressed the simple act of _being home_ had already made his lover. "Can we visit it while we're here?"

Hiroki nodded mutely, growling deep in his throat as he heard his mother's poorly concealed squeal of, "And he can put up with Hiro-chan's horrible temper! What a saint!"

_Sunlight_

The sun filtering through the trees looked like the bluest sea he'd ever seen. Nowaki had never been to the ocean until his travels to New York, and compared to the luscious greenery of the canopy and the deep blue of the skyline, the ocean didn't really seem like much, especially when he looked to Hiro-san and saw all those colors reflected in his eyes, and imagined, not for the first time, a young Hiro-san watching the clouds swirl and change into shapeless daydreams.

_Pets_

"It's just a cat, Hiro-san." Nowaki reasoned, exasperated as the older man scowled and busied himself with the laundry.

"Well, we can't keep it," the assistant professor hissed, much like the feline that was currently taking residence in Nowaki's arms (which honestly only pissed him off more). "I mean, it'll be way too expensive, and pets need TLC that we're simply not around enough to provide. Not to mention that cats like to scratch things and I'm not going to tolerate any claw marks on the furniture—or the _books_—and don't even get me started on spraying—"

Nowaki merely stared at him with that tell-tale kicked-puppy pout, and, in the end, Hiroki found himself stopping by the grocery store after work to pick up litter and cat food.

_Forever_

Staring into Hiro-san's beautiful sleeping face, as his lithe chest rose and fell with each light breath and the wind from their open bedroom window played with the edges of his silky, light-brown hair, Nowaki decided that he would do anything for his older lover, if only he could gaze at his slumbering face each night until the end of time.

Butterflies

"You're adorable, Hiro-san," Nowaki whispered, lips soft as velvet against his cheek, long arms encircling him, and he felt _safe._

"Idiot," Hiroki snapped, face burning. "You're the only moron in the entire world who can sound cute saying those embarrassing things."

And Nowaki laughed, a quiet sort of music, and Hiroki's insides fluttered like so many butterflies' wings.

_Fin._

_First and foremost, this is dedicated to _Chappy-the-Bunny_, who is an excellent source of inspiration and the young-Usagi-san to my older and more perverse Usagi-san. She was also the one who said, "Write the Egoist story!" When I asked if I should finish this or the Romantica story I've been working on for forever, so thank you so much for gently pushing me to get my butt in gear!_

_For anyone who was wondering, saying that someone "hung the moon" just means that you think they're super fantastic and all that. If you're thinking: 'Who the Hell talks like that?" –I do, actually, and so Usagi-san has to suffer for my weird catch phrases._

_Well, thank you so much for taking the time to read and please feel free to review and let me know what you thought!_


End file.
